


and I swear to the stars

by not_the_marimba



Category: Crane Wife Songs - The Decemberists
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_the_marimba/pseuds/not_the_marimba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll burn this whole city down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I swear to the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> Hello, goodly yuletide recipient! I really liked your ideas about "O Valencia!" as a love story between gin-running gang members and just kind of went with it. I hope you like it!

When George first gets back from France he sleeps on the too-small twin bed in his childhood bedroom, staring at the baseball cards he tacked up on the wall when he was seven, Buck Freeman staring benevolently down on him like a saint. He doesn't sleep. He moves to a boarding house when he hears his mother crying to his aunt on the phone about how sometimes he doesn't get out of bed all day and won't respond when she talks to him. 

***

Eugene is shouting, and George can see his gun, and he can see Frank running to his side like a fool, and it's all happening too fast.

***

The bootlegging, though, doesn't start until he's let go from his fifth job in a row. Someone at the boarding house says he knows a guy who could use an extra hand, and before he knows it he's running gin from the border to the Valencia. The Valencia is owned by Peter, who owns the place, and his four children. Eugene, the oldest, runs the show. Ruth does the books, Walter works the door, Frank's at the bar pouring drinks with a few hired hands. 

For a while it's only Eugene and Ruth that George really sees: Eugene chewing them out if something gets lost, Ruth checking everything off as it comes in, both of them taking George or one of the other guys aside to let them know what's next. But a few weeks in, after a particularly good run, Ruth tells him to go into the bar, “sample the wares,” she says, puffing on one of the cigarettes she's constantly smoking, and he does, slipping in through the storage room door. 

And that's when he finally sees Frank. 

Frank's slight and pale, angular but still boyish. He's got his shirt sleeves rolled up and he's laughing, pouring something for one of the milling crowd all around the bar, shoving it across the counter and pocketing the cash, suddenly meeting George's gaze through the swarm with a warm smile, and George feels the room shift and something come loose inside of him, and he gives into his first instinct, which is to run. 

George frantically sprints back into the storage room, muttering something to Ruth about needing to get home, and disappears into the night. He doesn't sleep again, but for a different reason than usual. 

The next time he comes back and Ruth good-naturedly shoves him into the bar again, he goes with confidence. There's no reason for him to be afraid of a bartender. Silly to run away because he had a sudden lurching in his stomach like some kind of teenager. He orders a gin and tonic, glancing furtively at Frank as he makes it. 

***

Frank's frame goes limp in his arms, and Ruth is screaming while Eugene falls to his knees, and George finds himself frantically whispering oaths like they're going to bring him back.

***

“Ah, you came back. Get your courage up?” Frank yells over the music and idle chatter of the hundreds crammed into the bar, handing off the drink with a flourish. 

“I don't know what you mean,” George finds himself stammering, taking the drink and downing it so quickly that he knows it must look suspicious. 

“You're one of the boys working the back, right?” George doesn't understand how Frank seems so sure of himself, staring him down like that with no trace of shame. 

“I am.” He slams the glass on the counter and Frank is already pouring him another. 

“Can you help me get some of the rum down from the shelf? I'm not strong enough to get it down, but we're running low,” Frank says, quieter this time, but much closer. 

“Um, sure.” George finds himself being led out of the main bar, back into the storage area, then through the corridor, as Frank swings open a door near the end.

“Frank, I don't think this is the right room, I think this is where Eugene puts the teq--” 

George is unable to finish his sentence because Frank is suddenly grabbing him on either side of his head and kissing him, cautiously, like he's expecting George to push him off at any moment. He steps back a bit, but rests his hands on George's shoulders. 

“You're right. There's no rum here. I didn't even need rum. I just...” he trails off, suddenly looking nervous. “Look, if I was wrong, we can just walk out of here, if you don't tell Eugene, I won't say anything either, you can keep bootlegging, I know the money's good.” 

George isn't sure he can handle putting together a sentence, so instead he pulls Frank closer and kisses him again. 

***

He realizes, somewhat hysterically, that Frank's blood is still warm on the ground, and he can't pull words together for the cop who's trying to take his statement. 

***

After that, George organizes everything into the portions of time he gets with Frank: when they sneak off to “get more rum from the back,” when George brings in what he told Eugene he'd have and then spends the rest of the night sitting at the edge of the bar trying to distract Frank, or the one or two nights a week when Frank comes to the boardinghouse after the bar's shut down for the night. 

He tells Frank about France late one night when they're curled under the sheets trying to keep warm, Frank's arm draped over him, and Frank kisses him and tells him to sleep. He actually does for once. 

***

“Sir, I'm very sorry, but I need your statement.”

“His blood's getting cold on the ground,” George hears himself tell the officer.

***

In retrospect, George wonders how they managed to keep it secret for so long. It's not until almost a year of disappearing into the back rooms and frantically but silently fucking in the boardinghouse that Ruth steps in on them kissing in the room where Eugene keeps the tequila. 

The blood drains from her face, and George realizes that there is literally nothing they can say that will fix this, and she's turning and running down the hall with Frank fast on her heels. George runs all the way back to the boardinghouse and lies on his bed in a cold sweat for hours, turning over in his mind every possible way this will end poorly until he falls asleep. 

He's not sure whether he's been out for a few minutes or a few hours when he wakes up to Frank crying so hard he's shaking at the end of the bed. 

“Frank, come here, I'm sorry I left, I just--” 

“Ruth gave us away,” Frank sobs, collapsing against him. “My father's come all unhinged, it's not good, it's NOT good, George, Eugene's going to kill you, he said he would.” 

“Listen.” George suddenly feels certain for once. “You're going to go home. You're going to say whatever you need to get your dad and Eugene off your back. Tell them I've taken off for another city. But then you stay up and tonight you wait for the stone on your window, okay? I'll be by the car and we'll go.” 

***

“Sir?”

“I'll burn this whole city down.”

**Author's Note:**

> also I was not 500% sure on the tags, the field didn't populate for anything so I just went for it.


End file.
